


Dare You Dare You Double Dare You

by iDiru



Series: Double Dare Verse [1]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Anal Fingering, Betting, Bottom Peter, Bottom Roman, Boys Being Boys, Canon Divergence, Coming Untouched, First Time, Gross Jokes, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marijuana, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Peter has been around the block more than expected, Peter's a snarky little bitch, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Roman doesn't know what pansexual means but he is one, Roman is naive, Sassing, Shotgunning, So is Roman, Technically underage because it's season 1 but try not to think about it because I didn't, s01e06 the crucible, title is inexplicably a silent hill reference because i don't know what to name things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: After visiting Lisa Willoughby's house, an off-color joke about the prison systems prompts Peter to make a rather sexual bet with Roman. Not wanting to chicken out on a challenge Roman accepts. Despite his confidence, winning isn't as easy as he thought, and feelings and thoughts he never considered before come up.





	Dare You Dare You Double Dare You

**Author's Note:**

> I interrupt your regularly scheduled angst fest that is everything I write and give you this light hearted season 1 one-shot. 
> 
> I haven't watched Season 1 in a while so if I forget things bare with me thanks

The adrenaline from earlier that day had long since worn off, and as Roman inexplicably sat with Peter on the hood of his car, instead of actually in it, a dull sense of calm was beginning to settle over them. Of course, it was not all calm. There was the notion of mysterious letters written to girls now six feet underground missing their lower halves, and death aplenty. It was calmer than it had been, though. A storm of uncertainty, impatience, and enough nerves to twist his stomach into knots. Who knew that breaking and entering would be calming?

 

A brief silence fell as Roman made a distasteful joke about the perils of prison life and sex, due to the fact that getting arrested might have been in their near future. Unlikely, but possible. He gave a glance to his side at Peter currently ignoring everything else and looking at his phone. Silence unsettled him and his brain to mouth filter sometimes failed him when he thought something stupid and decided to say it. It was clear from the moment the two of them had met Lisa Willoughby's sister and Roman decided to tell her everything.

 

“I don't really understand how people can like getting something shoved up their ass, anyway.” Roman said, almost offhandedly. A statement he thought nothing of, a simple passing phrase that would amount to nothing but noise in the silence. Peter gave a short laugh beside him as Roman took another bite of his sandwich.

 

“There's nerves up there and shit,” Peter replied. Roman didn't know how oversimplified that answer was.

 

“Well I mean ,yeah, there's gotta be. There's nerves everywhere. I don't want someone trying to shove their hand into my stomach or something, though.”

 

“Trust me, it's nothing like that.” Peter replied, not looking at him directly but sort of off in the distance. “What kind of analogy is that, anyway? Who would want that?”

 

“How would you know, anyway?” The question was innocent and naive. Far more than he knew.

 

“'Cause I've done it,” Came Peter's nonchalant reply. Roman, in response, choked slightly on his sandwich. It was not the reply he was expecting.

 

“What are you, gay?” he asked. “That's a surprise considering the way you've been eye-fucking my cousin.” Roman definitely knew that gay wasn't the only sexuality but it was the first thing that came to his mind. “I mean, it's fine if you are. I don't care.”

 

“Roman...” Peter mumbled, almost a hiss of annoyance in his tone. “No, I'm not gay. Are you?”

 

“What? No. Why would you ask that?” Roman scoffed.

 

“Because there's a rumor going around that you blew a guy in the second floor bathroom for coke.”

 

“That doesn't make me gay...I think the dude just really wanted a blowjob and he was holding out on me.”

 

“So you did blow a guy for coke?” Peter laughed.

 

“Yeah, so?” he scoffed. “Whatever. So I blew a guy for coke. You still wouldn't catch me with my pants down, literally.”

 

“Alright,” Peter responded, in a tone that conveyed he probably thought that was the end of it. There was silence again and Roman still felt that proverbial word vomit building up in his brain and throat. The kind of word vomit that he got when his brain forgot to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

 

“Maybe you just get off too easy. Have some kind of premature ejaculation or some shit.”

 

“Dude, I do not. Why you so defensive about this shit? You scared that you might like ass sex or something?”

 

“No,” Roman defended. He wasn't sure exactly _why_ he was defending this in the first place. “Just making conversation.” 

 

“What the fuck kinda conversation is telling me I get off too easy?”

 

“It's too fuckin' quiet out here.” Roman said, almost in a shout.

 

“Yeah, it's fuckin' quiet. So everyone can hear you whining.”

 

“Fuck off,” Roman said in yet another scoff. Silence fell again but this time it was Peter who broke it, again with something he didn't expect.

 

“I bet you a hundred I can get you off just by using my fingers,”

 

“What?” Roman wasn't quite sure if he'd heard him right. “Are you fucking with me? Why would you want that?”

 

“It's an easy hundred and I'm tired of listening to you bitch.”

 

“Bullshit, you could not.”

 

“I think you're just scared you might like it,” Peter quipped. Was he trying to peer pressure him? No, Roman was pretty sure he was just fucking with him. But at this point, Roman had a point to prove.

 

“Fine, you're on. But you don't get shit unless you get me off.”

 

“Seriously?” Peter asked. “I mean, I wasn't totally serious. I don't want to push you into something you don't want. I'm not an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, I'm serious, and now I have a point to prove. Get in the car.” Roman said, sliding off the hood and making his way to the drivers seat. When Peter got in, he turned to him and spoke.

 

“Is your mom home?”

 

“No...I don't know, why?”

 

“'Cause I don't know if you want her hearing you yowling like a cat in heat.”

 

“You're real fuckin' confident, aren't you? And for your information, I'm pretty quiet.”

 

“Okay,” Peter said dismissively. “You got any lube or do we need to make a stop?”

 

“I've got lotion. Makes my dick soft as a baby's ass.”

 

“Don't ever use those two phrases in the same sentence again. We need to make a stop.”

 

 

It turned out that that stop was actually at Peter's house, in which Roman waited anxiously at the top of the hill in his car. Did he really want to do this? Was proving a point that important? But the truth of it was he needed to forget about the stress of the day. They were at bit of a standstill for the time being. There was still an obvious mystery that needed to be solved but Roman thought if he had something else to distract him for a moment he could come back into this with a level head. Giving Peter the hundred was nothing to him if he lost, and if he did lose he at least got something out of it.

 

 

Roman wasn't gay, but he also didn't give a shit who he slept with. He'd fucked half the student body and blown  _at least_ one guy for coke. He wasn't sure if there was a word for that or not. He wasn't exactly hip to the world of LGBT. Regardless he felt like it was taking forever, and finally heard the door slam open from down the hill. Lynda chastised him for being so rough and as he looked down the hill, he could just barely see her waving at him from where he sat. Peter was carrying a small plastic Walmart bag on his person as he slid into the passenger side. 

 

“I hope that doesn't have pubes or some shit in it,” Roman said as he pulled off.

 

“How the fuck would I get pubes in it? It's a tube.”

 

“Fuck if I know.”

 

The more Roman drove on, the more he couldn't believe he was doing this shit. Roman said he didn't care who he fucked but Peter was his best friend. His only friend. He wasn't friends with all the other people he screwed. It seemed like Peter didn't care either, though. Roman's fear had been it would make shit weird but if neither of them treated it that way they would probably be okay. They still needed to find the vargulf and any latent weirdness that might result from this would be a problem.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, making Roman jump slightly.

 

“Yeah,” he said hurriedly. “I'm good.”

 

“Are you nervous?”

 

“Why would I be nervous?”

 

“'Cause you look nervous.”

 

Roman scoffed and fell silent. He was kind of nervous even though he shouldn't be.

 

“You've got weed, right?” Peter asked.

 

“Is that an actual question? Yeah I got weed.”

 

“Good. Weed will help you calm the fuck down.”

 

“I'm not nervous!”

 

“So are you saying no to the weed?”

 

“No. You want anything else while we're at it? Coke, tranqs, meth?”

 

“You have _meth?_ ” 

 

“Do I look like I have meth?”

 

“Kinda. Your cheekbones are ridiculous.”

 

 

 

It wasn't long after Roman told him off for the meth comment that they ended up at home. Eternally grateful to not see Olivia's car in the driveway. He thought she might be out with Shelley or something. Oh God, he hoped. Roman doubted Peter's ability to, quote on quote, make him yowl like a cat in heat but he wanted to be safe nonetheless. It would definitely be awkward for his sister to be hanging around at a time like that. She was innocent and did not need to be exposed to that side of him, though he knew she was aware of it. He was greeted with silence as he lead Peter in the front door; success.

 

“I'm pretty sure we're safe,” Roman said as he started up the stairs.

 

“You weren't sure?”

 

“I was pretty sure.”

 

“Your mom will have my ass if she catches me here, you know that. We could've done it at my house if you thought she might be home.”

 

“ _Your_ mom is home.” 

 

“She won't try to eat my face for screwing around, though. Whatever. Let's get this over with, then I can figure out what to do with that hundred.”

 

 

He shot Peter a brief glare before turning and opening the doors to his room. He waved him in, almost dramatically, letting his arm fall audibly to his side as he entered. Once they were in he locked the door behind him just to be safe. Even if Olivia did come home he'd make sure Peter didn't get any of her wrath. He watched as Peter wandered over to the window briefly, looking out onto the front lawn with his fingers grasping at the curtains.

 

“You expecting someone?” Roman asked, settling onto the bed. He rummaged through his drawer to retrieve the small box containing a variety of drug paraphernalia, weed being one of them. 

 

“Your mother,” he replied, shutting the curtains with an audible slide of metal on metal. He kicked off his shoes before he got to the bed, prompting Roman to do the same. When he was sitting next to him Roman could feel his heart start to beat a little faster. This was fine; totally fine. He wasn't nervous.

 

He took a pre-rolled joint from the box and lit it up, missing the lighter wheel a few times. It wasn't that his hands were shaking; they totally weren't, it's because most lighters were way smaller than his hands. He took a quick drag, passed it to Peter and watched as he inhaled. Looking down at the joint, Roman never realized how long and dark his lashes were. Peter raised a brow when he caught him staring.

 

“You gonna take your rings off before you try rummaging around down there?”

 

“What do you think this is?” Peter laughed, smoke exhaling from his lungs as he did. “Your ass isn't Santa's fuckin' toy bag. I'm not going down there looking for presents.”

 

“That's not what I meant,” Roman defended.

 

“When you use the word rummaging it makes it sound a lot more ridiculous. Fine,” Peter said, passing him the joint again. Roman took a drag as he watched Peter work the rings off his fingers, settling them on the dresser with a soft clatter. “If it makes you feel better.”

 

“Your nails don't make me feel better. They're kind of intimidating.”

 

“Look..” Peter said, taking the joint that was passed back to him. “I know how to do this without hurting you. I promise... I mean, it hurts a little. You get used to it, though.”

 

“Okay,” Roman shrugged. He really wasn't that worried about pain. He cut himself up for the sexual thrill of it, he couldn't care less about a few scratches. The location of the scratches, though, that was a little worrisome.

 

 

A good few minutes had gone by, Roman was feeling a bit more relaxed now. They had been sort of sitting there, not doing much for those few minutes and that was a little annoying. Was he not relaxed and kind of out of it he might've insisted Peter stop dicking around. He finally turned to Roman, smoking joint still in his fingertips, shifting to face him much better. He had a bit of a nervous energy but it was overshadowed by a bold confidence. He reached over him to put the joint in the ashtray and Roman watched his movements as he did so. Entranced, watching the last tendrils of smoke waft from his open lips, and the length of his lashes that fanned against his skin as he looked downward. Jesus Christ, get a grip, Roman.

 

 

Peter placed a firm hand on his knee which made him jump more than he was comfortable with. It went unnoticed to Peter, or if it didn't he decided not to bring it up.

 

“I can't do shit to you if you're just siting here getting high.”

 

“Yeah, I know. What do you want to do?”

 

“I need to get you...” he paused, gesticulated briefly with his face contorted in search of the right phrase. “Worked up”

 

“So what, you wanna show me your tits or something?” Roman joked. It got a light chuckle.

 

“No...I was thinking I could kiss you.”

 

“What?” Roman asked, taken aback. It wasn't something he'd considered. “You didn't say anything about kissing.”

 

“I just think it could get you there faster.”

 

“What if I don't like kissing you?”

 

“Then I'll feel a little insulted. Look...if you're afraid-”

 

“I'm not afraid,” Roman interrupted.

 

“If you're _afraid_ , nervous, whatever...I can help ease you into it. If you don't like it, I'll stop. We can stop this whole thing if you want.” 

 

“Fine. Do it.”

 

“Geez, tone down your excitement,” Peter said sarcastically. He took the joint up once more, breathed in deep, and then gently grabbed Roman's face as he held his breath. It took him a second to realize Peter was trying to shotgun him. Tentatively, he opened his mouth and let Peter breathe into it. The excess of smoke breathed into his mouth made him feel a little woozy in a good way. Half way through , instead of simply breathing close to him, Peter closed the gap and pressed his lips to him. Somewhat open mouthed to let the remnants filter out of his lungs. With the smoke waning he turned it further into a kiss. It bellowed out to the sides when Roman forgot how to breathe for a minute. It surprised him, though he wasn't sure why. Peter had told him what he was going to do, but kissing your friend somehow was different.

 

 

It was a lot different than kissing a girl. It was definitely rougher, definitely something to get used to. It was like riding a bike, though. A bike with a beard but once he got over the shock he was able to reciprocate. Gentle and tentative, Roman found himself uncertain of what to do with his hands. They were awkwardly placed in his lap, and with a motion of uncertainty he brought it up to Peter's hair. It was mostly split ends and not very soft, although some parts of it were. Still he found his way through the tangles, to thread his fingers through his hair.

 

 

With each kiss he felt a heat building in his lungs, traveling down his stomach and into his groin. Surprisingly, he liked this. He  _really_ liked this. Somehow it felt...special, because it was with Peter. When he pulled away, Roman found himself disappointed but suddenly a sense of calm understanding washed over him. His lips tingled with the need to get his mouth on him again but he was back to reality, to at least somewhat level headed thinking. He turned so that he was less hanging off the bed, instructing Roman to do the same, and he did. Tucking his legs beneath him, Peter was relentless once he was more accessible. 

 

He wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled him closer and kissed him hard. He felt fingers in his hair and he could only think to do the same. A rough movement that had him yanking at the tangles unintentionally but it made no difference to Peter. He had his tongue in his mouth soon after. He tasted like weed and mint gum, and he really wondered when he had the time to chew gum. Roman felt a tinge of regret at the knowledge that he probably tasted like weed and a sandwich which was probably kind of gross. Still, even with this slightly off putting knowledge he couldn't' help but realized that this dull heat was turning into something much stronger, and he could feel a stiffening in his jeans. Peter was right, it definitely helped him get there faster. He was ashamed to admit, though, that Roman found this very nice. But that was not part of the bet. Peter wasn't going to get him off just by making out with him.

 

 

He soon found himself on his back, with Peter slotted between his thighs and he was momentarily surprised to find a stiffness that had not been present earlier. He wasn't going to mention it if Peter wouldn't. It would be stupid to think that, like Roman, it had helped 'get him there' as well. He was hesitant about letting Roman know, it seemed. They were nearly crotch to crotch but Peter avoided rutting up against him. Instead he focused elsewhere, and Roman found a hand running along his skin, along his ribs. He instinctively turned to the touch, arching against it, craving it. Roman had a bad feeling that Peter was going to end up winning this bet somehow... When he unbuttoned his shirt, he had to pull away for brief moments. Roman chased him down each time, whenever he moved too far. Finally, Peter sat up and was out of his reach.

 

“For someone who said they wouldn't like kissing me-,”

 

“Shut up,” Roman spat, stopping him from finishing that sentence. “I don't want to hear it.”

 

 

Peter merely gave him a smirk, leaning forward to kiss him again but keeping the contact light. Any contact below the belt was a different manner, and he had his hand on his crotch in seconds. Roman pulled away briefly, biting down on his lip as he shifted his hips against Peter's hand. He was ready and willing to give him the attention he desired, with rough palming against the front of his jeans. He hadn't realized how much his cock had leaked until Peter brought his attention by rubbing his hand against it, though he felt the vague trickle of precum each time he touched him.

 

“Can I take your pants off?” he asked, so soft Roman almost didn't hear him. He tried to speak but his voice got caught in his throat and all he could do was nod, disappointed when Peter stopped touching him even though he knew he had to.

 

 

Peter undid his belt and pulled down on the waistband of his pants, while Roman automatically raised his hips up for him to slip them off. He took everything down in one fell swoop and Roman had to awkwardly kick the rest of his jeans off around Peter's hips. When he was sufficiently undressed, he felt a hand on one of his thighs, pushing outwards and urging him to spread his legs. Roman wouldn't lie and say it didn't feel awkward.

 

“Holy fuck,” Peter choked out suddenly. That wasn't the kind of reaction he was used to getting.

 

“You got some kind of a problem down there?”

“Um...” he said, the words wavering slightly as he spoke. “No, I just...I wasn't expecting this.”

 

“Expecting _what?_ ” Roman asked, his patience beginning to run thin. 

 

“Your ...Your balls, man. How do you walk with these?”

 

“Dude,” Roman mumbled, drawing his legs up slightly. Peter still gave him some vague resistance but stopped soon after.

 

“Sorry. It wasn't an insult.”

 

“It was still fucking weird. I didn't say weird shit about your genitals.”

 

“Can you forgive me?” Peter asked , almost sincerely but not completely.

 

“Whatever...just stop making weird ass comments.”

 

“I learned it from watching you,” Peter quipped, sliding his hand between his thighs once more to push them apart. It felt weird, sitting there like he was waiting on a gyno to pry open his bits even though he didn't have any. He grabbed Roman by the hips, slid down the bed himself and instructed Roman to do the same before Peter was actually off the bed, and Roman was still on it.

 

“Stop me if you need to, okay?” he said, kneeling in front of him on the floor and pulling him forward once more ,just enough, so that he could get close enough. Peter planted the palms of his hands on Roman's lower thighs and pushed them up towards his chest, and at this motion Roman took in a nervous breath. It was somewhat shaky as he inhaled, tried his best to look down at him but since he was on the floor he couldn't see much. He could feel his hands move down lower and closer. They traveled along his inner thighs until he felt a shiver of arousal run up his spine, and he arched his back to expose himself further to him. He had a general idea what he was down there for.

 

 

He felt a warm and wet dampness that started along his perineum and then down further. The sensation was almost a bit of an electric shock. He didn't quite expect to feel like this. It was weird, wet and hot but there was  _something_ there. He had of course had someone's tongue on his genitals before but no one had actually ever tried to eat him out. He wondered if this was what it was like when he went down on girls, or at least something similar. Peter continued to work his tongue down there and with each pass and movement there was a sort of rolling boil building in his stomach. The longer he worked, the better it felt. His breathing was still fairly even, if not for the occasional hitch of breathe when his lungs clenched up slightly at a place that would occasionally feel particularly good. 

 

 

Peter suddenly moved his hand further inward, exposing the more nerve laden mucous membranes of his insides by the placement of his thumb, and ran his tongue along the sensitive flesh there. Oh, was it definitely more sensitive. Everything that had been before was like a vague appetizer. His lungs failed him momentarily, trapping air inside until he was able to breathe again with an audible sigh. He worked more reverently to bring him pleasure, and although the movement was starting to give his thighs what felt like carpet burn it was working. His hands found their way downwards, to thread his fingers through his hair as he held him there and shifted his hips in desperation, his thighs trembling slightly with each pass. He was no longer quiet, but not loud either. It was limited to panting breaths and bitten lips that held back what may have been soft and quiet moans. But he didn't think this would get him off, and he was beginning to realize this wasn't where Peter was going to stop. That wasn't part of the bet. Did this disqualify him from his bet, though? He said  _only_ using his fingers, although he supposed he didn't specify that he wouldn't be working him up to it in other ways. Fucking loophole-esque bets. He should've presented that motherfucker with a contract, gotten that shit in writing. It's not like Roman cared, though, he probably would've just given it to him had he asked anyway. 

 

 

He was frustrated with the lack of contact with his cock, though. It leaked languidly onto his skin, untouched and yearning. He was still trying to keep up his end of the bargain, though. If he touched himself he might get off then and there, and that would ruin the whole plan. He had to seriously fight himself, clutching the sheets with his free hand to keep it busy enough so he didn't reach down and do it. He knew, now, that's what he wanted. He was  _hoping_ that Peter won this bet because he really just wanted to come at this point. 

 

 

When Peter finally stopped, raised himself and gripped his own jaw, shifting it with his hand until it made an unpleasant popping noise, Roman had not been aware how hard he'd been breathing. Now that he was no longer stimulated he found it hard to catch his breath again. Peter made a vague gesture for him to scoot up on the bed again and once he did, Peter climbed onto it again and in front of him. He scooped up the bag he'd left on the other side of the bed, taking out the tube and lying it on his lap.

 

“You ready?” he asked, and Roman had to wonder, was he? He thought he was. He nodded, but the movement was uncertain. In turn, it made Peter momentarily uncertain. He appeared to be weighing his options, but decided on taking up the tube in his lap and popping it open.

 

“This might hurt a little...” he said, pouring a small amount onto his fingers. He was sure he saw some of it dribble down and hit the bed to which he found sightly annoying but it wasn't like he hadn't gotten come on the thing before. “And be kind of cold. It'll warm up, I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Roman responded, reaching behind him to grab a few pillows so that he could prop himself up better. He was a little sick of lying flat on his back.

 

 

It was indeed cold, and at first not very painful. Just weird. Peter reached between his legs and he felt the first hints of his fingers probing at his entrance, a place that was already wet from saliva feeling much slicker now and colder. It was a gentle back and forth, circular motion. He realized he felt very tense, his muscles unyielding and clenching up to try to ward off any potential intrusions. The motion seemed to relax him, though. With each movement he seemed to push further into him. Still outside, but providing pressure until his muscles gave way long enough for him to push in slightly. This did hurt. He unintentionally clenched up again and let out a brief hiss of pain, to which Peter stalled but he was still left with the sensation of burning and uncomfortable intrusion.

 

“You okay?” he asked, still as still as he could be. Roman winced slightly, attempting to shift position to take some of the pressure off his hips but the movement only aggravated the burning more.

 

“It's just...not the kind of pain I'm used to.”

“I can stop,” Peter said, to which Roman shook his head.

 

“I'll get over it. Keep going.”

 

He did keep going. Through gentle coaxing he was able to push his finger in to the second knuckle. It felt, at the moment, incredibly uncomfortable. Peter seemed incredibly conflicted about continuing, despite the fact that pain was no longer his main concern for how uncomfortable it felt.

 

“Jesus, Roman you look almost ill.”

 

“It's just fucking weird...I mean, is it ..” he stalled, trying to think of the words. “Is it supposed to feel like I'm going to shit myself or something? I'm not, am I?” he asked, the possibility suddenly seeming real for him and he wasn't about to embarrass himself.

 

“I mean...if you were, I'd be the first to know. But no, you're not. It feels weird at first but you get used to it, I promise. Just try to relax. Think of like...something relaxing.”

 

“I never knew I should think of something relaxing to fucking relax,”

 

“I can't think of anything, I don't know what you do. Think about tranqing yourself you fucking drug addict.”

 

Insulting as that might have been to anyone else it just made Roman laugh. What seemed to make him relax was giving Peter hell, though. Made him not think about how uncomfortable it felt. He was pretty sure Peter didn't feel the same sentiment.

 

“You're gonna lose that damn bet, Peter.” Roman said with a smirk. This was followed by a wince and Peter glaring at him.

 

“I'm not gonna lose this bet. If you'd fucking relax and I could get another finger in you I'd show you but you're tighter than a damn Pringles can.”

 

“You trying to put your whole fuckin' hand up there?”

 

“No,” Peter grumbled. “Are you going to bitch the whole time?”

 

“It helps me relax,” he admitted honestly.

 

“Fucking with me helps you relax? Jesus Christ you're a psychopath.”

 

“I get it from my mother-ugh, fuck!” he cursed, as as he was speaking Peter finally succeeded in getting that second finger in, at least partially. “Why do you need two?”

 

“Because it makes it easier,” he said, as gently as he could, easing the second on in next to the first. It seemed to go in easier seeing as he was already partially inside of him. It only made that irritating full sensation in his bowel feel worse. He bit down on his lip and let out a low whimper, exhaling audibly through his nose. When Peter stilled himself for a moment, Roman breathed out. It was heavy and as it left him he felt like he was suffocating. It made him take in a somewhat choked off gasp as he tried to even out his breathing again.

 

“You're okay,” Peter said. It was the first time he actually told him instead of asked. “I promise you're okay.”

 

“I think you're the nicest person I've ever had sex with,” Roman admitted. The words came out shakey and in different octaves, choked off as his breathing picked up a bit. He wasn't sure why he couldn't breathe but he almost felt like he was about to hyperventilate. Truth be told it made him feel kind of trapped.

 

“We're not having sex...” Peter said, though he appeared to be taken aback. “You look like you're about to pass out,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern. “I'm not hurting you that bad am I?”

 

“No...I just...I can't breathe,” he choked out.

 

“Shit, okay...” Peter mumbled. “Look, I think we need to stop this-,”

 

“Don't!” Roman shouted suddenly. “Because I know if you fucking pull out you won't get back in.”

 

“It's not that big of a deal, Roman. I don't really care about the money.”

 

“Shut up,” he ground out. He took in another breath that seemed to come slightly easier but it was still audible and strained. “Just do this for me, okay? I'm fine. I'm not a pussy.”

 

“Okay,” Peter replied, though he was uncertain. He leaned over him slightly, the best he could while his hand was still between his legs. It felt like all the nerves in that area were pulsing in protest and leaning over didn't help it much. He leaned on one elbow, to make sure he could still touch him. He ran one hand along his face, into his hair in a soothing motion. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 

“Yeah...yeah, it's fine.”

 

He kissed him gently, not like what they had before but it seemed in an attempt to be calming. It worked in a way. It took his mind of his breathing and he could focus on Peter's mouth. Peter pulled away long enough to look down at him. He was momentarily stunned, seeing him close in this light, the stark icy blue contrast to the black depths of his pupils that swallowed it. It also gave him something else to focus on.

 

“I think you're having a panic attack. You're okay...You're not going to die.”

 

“I'm not afraid of dying,” Roman scoffed, still sounding a little winded. “That's fucking stupid. Why am I having a panic attack?”

 

“Shit happens,” Peter said, attempting a shrug with the one arm not buried in his thighs.

 

“It better not.”

 

Peter gave a light chuckle at this. He raised himself up a bit, swiping at a stray bit of hair that had fallen from the thickly gelled quaff.

 

“You good now?” he asked, his voice raising louder than it had been. He hadn't realized how quietly Peter had been speaking to him until he wasn't anymore.

 

“I think...I think I can catch my breath now.”

 

“Good,” Peter replied, resuming his original position. “I'm going to keep going, okay?”

 

“Okay...” Roman said, taking in one deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was regaining his ability to breathe. Peter moved his fingers once more and Roman realized just how much he'd forgotten about them for a second. It still felt weird but it was nowhere near as intrusive.

 

“I think you're good to go. Get ready to lose that bet,” Peter smirked, and Roman felt as he drew his fingers back a good bit.

 

“Why don't you get ready to lose the bet?” Roman grumbled confrontationally.

 

“You wanna ask me that question again?” Peter said, and Roman felt him slide them back in slightly. He moved them back and forth for a moment until he stalled once again, nearly pulled out of him.

 

“I can fuckin' tell you that doesn't feel like shit. Get ready to-,” he was cut off by Peter roughly pushing his fingers forward. The first thing he felt was pain but it was something he quickly forgot about by the _second_ thing he felt. A blinding white shock of pleasure that radiated so intensely he felt it all the way down his legs and up into his spine. It took his breath away into an audible gasp and he tilted his head back, forgetting how to breathe again for a completely different reason. He felt like a virgin. Not just from pain but from how intense that felt. Like he'd never touched his dick before in his life. When he breathed out it was audible. A keening cry that was a lot louder than he usually was. The only response he could think to formulate was a shaking, “Oh, fuck.”

 

“Are you still confident?”

 

“Fuck you,” Roman hissed. Not even sure why he said it, but he was both angry and desperate.

 

“That kind of wasn't part of the bet,” Peter replied smugly. He pushed his fingers forward again, very deliberately into that spot and Roman let out a long and shaking moan that seemed to come deep from his chest, in the lungs that clenched up around every breath like every muscle in his body. “Fuck, oh _fuck_..fucking _bitch_ , Jesus Christ,” he babbled out. Not sure exactly what he was trying to say but his brain was short circuiting.

 

“Do you have Tourette's?” Peter asked him. He didn't understand it for a minute but once it clicked he was pissed.

 

“Fuck off,” he spat. Peter only laughed at him, though he knew it wasn't malicious in the least bit. He worked his fingers in him relentlessly and it turned Roman into a mewling mess. He was in ecstasy but also incredibly pissed off that Peter had been right. Between breathless moans and guttural, primal cries of pleasure he found solace in cursing him out. What could perhaps be considered cursing him out, as in general it was just cursing until he directed it at Peter.

 

“Why do I feel like I'm finger fucking a cobra? You're so aggressive.”

 

“You into that shit?” Roman whined. “Fuckin' weirdo.” This insult was incredibly ineffective. He could barely stop himself from crying out long enough to speak. Peter was _good_ at this. Really good. It hadn't even been that long and he could already feel the boiling heat of a building orgasm. The tenseness that gripped his abdomen and made his thighs shake.

 

“Jesus Christ, you win.” he breathed, warped and wavering.

 

“Did I?” Peter asked. When he spoke, it wasn't as playful as it had been. It was was something dark, deep and needy. “Are you getting off already?”

 

“Working on it,” he responded, though barely.

 

“Do it,” Peter said. It was a short statement and he breathed in after he said it. A sort of shaking and audible breath that caught in his throat. “Come on, please.” he said, barely above a whisper.

 

 

Roman reached down to ground himself, and grabbed the wrist that Peter was using to brace himself on the bed. His other hand was wrapped tightly around the sheets, white knuckled and probably leaving runs in it with his nails. Knowing Roman was near the end, Peter stepped up his game. He was surprised he could, but he seemed to have been saving that stamina for this moment. He barely registered a dull wince on Peter's features as he did so but he could only think about the pleasure that was radiating through his body. He felt it coming hard and he arched back slightly, jerked his hips up as his stomach tightened so hard he thought it was going to implode. His lungs were in a vice grip and every moan was strained and desperate, gasping in deep breaths to fill them only to have them empty seconds later.

 

 

He came _hard_ , harder than he could ever remember doing. For a moment he was honestly afraid he'd pissed himself with how wet it was. He realized, though, that instead of spurting out as it usually did it ran out in great, massive waves of nearly pure liquid. With the pressure in his muscles released he let out one long and shaking moan. His thighs shook hard and his hips jerked every time Peter pushed against that spot. He didn't stop, even with his muscles baring down on him like a vice grip he kept working him through it. As he came down from that blinding white passion, with stars in his vision, he let out dull whimpers as Peter stimulated him until he was soft. Soft and absolutely drenched; disgusting.

 

 

Peter pulled his fingers out finally and winced once more, flexing them and popping his middle and index finger especially after he did. Roman looked to the side of his room to where a hamper lay in the corner, with a towel he knew he'd used for showering and brought in there after he was done to dress.

 

“Dude, can you...” he said, voice cracking a little. “There's a towel in there, if I get up it's gonna get everywhere.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter said, climbing off the bed and turning his back to him. Roman let out another heavy breath, settling his head against the pillow and closing his eyes. Okay, so he definitely owed Peter a hundred. He reached to his side, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the drawer and struggling to light one without getting up. He managed and and tossed the pack and lighter back onto the table with a clatter. Peter returned seconds later with the towel, tossing it at him and settling on the edge of the bed for a moment. He wiped himself off and then sat up to shed the shirt he had never actually taken off during this whole thing. He was pretty sure it'd been caught in the crossfire.

 

“Um...”Peter said, not directly facing him. “So can I use your bathroom or something? No lie but if I don't jerk off or something I think I'll die.”

 

“Seriously?” Roman chuckled. “Yeah it's...” he stalled. As he watched as Peter fought to catch his gaze he felt the sudden need to stop him. No...Roman realized, he wanted this from both sides. “Actually...can I do the same to you?”

 

“What?” Peter asked, turning to him finally. “Dude, you don't even know what you're doing.”

 

“So? It's a free orgasm. I mean...you saw me. Let me see you.”

 

“Bold words from someone who's 100% straight,” Peter scoffed. Roman frowned at this but still sat up, taking another drag from is cigarette and putting it in the ashtray moments later.

 

“I'm not gay,” he defended. “But I still want to do it. Please?”

 

 

Peter was silent and Roman was beginning to think he was going to reject him, but he let out an annoyed hissing groan and scooted closer to him on the bed.

 

“Okay, but I don't know how much time we've got left until your mom gets home. So don't dick around; we gotta make this quick. I'll..I'll do the first part for you, then you can figure it out from there.” As he spoke he gripped at his belt buckle and undid it with haste, and as he prepared to remove his pants the rest of the way he stopped.

 

“Wait...if I'm going to do the first part for you this isn't going to work.”

 

“What do you want, then?”

 

“I need to be leaning on you. Is that okay?”

 

Roman nodded and Peter wasted no time getting his pants off afterwards. It was a bit of stark contrast than before. Roman had been mostly naked while Peter was dressed. Now Peter was half naked and Roman was completely exposed. He didn't dwell on it long as Peter crawled over to him, grabbed the discarded lube from the side of the bed, and then turned to lean his back against Roman's chest. It wasn't exactly what Roman had thought was going to happen. Peter hadn't been clear in what he meant by leaning on him, but he didn't have a problem with it.

 

 

Peter was rougher with him now than he had been when they were intimate, if he could call it that, seconds before. He grabbed his hand, squeezed the slick liquid onto his fingers, and then proceeded to shove his hand between his legs. He knew now what Peter meant by doing the first part for him. He was still using Roman's hand but pushing at his fingers with his own to sort of control him. It made something in his chest swell and burn when he touched him there. It was so foreign to him. Specifically, to touch Peter of all people in this most intimate of places. He was so unused to seeing him like this. He'd seen him naked but he'd never seen him aroused and he'd never gotten his hands around his downstairs parts. He was surprised at the amount of heat he was radiating.

 

 

 

Peter was, of course, far more used to this than Roman was. It didn't take nearly as long for him to be able to push one of Roman's fingers in. His insides were far warmer than his outsides. They were borderline hot. It felt strange to him; he'd fingered girls before, but this was different. A lot less...naturally wet. Tighter, warmer, kind of stuck to his finger like loose, wet saran wrap filled with meat. That sounded gross, in hindsight, but it's what it reminded him of. He was able to push the second finger in soon after. It was clear he knew how to relax his body more than Roman did.

 

“Why do you need two?” Roman asked curiously. Now that he wasn't being anally invaded there were a lot more questions. He was pretty sure he'd asked it before but now he was more willing to listen

 

“It kind of covers more area, didn't we already go over this?” Peter said, sounding slightly uncomfortable as he spoke but Roman understood why. He pushed at Roman's fingers until they were sheathed inside of him. Peter hissed in pain at this, even though he was the one that did it. Roman was surprised to find that, on the inside of the ass, there was a second ass. Another tight ring of muscle that needed to be pushed past as well. He probably would know that had he ever payed attention in school.

 

“Jesus fuck your fingers are long.”

 

“Sorry,” Roman said, though it was less of an apology and more of a snarky remark.

 

“Pull out a little,” Peter instructed. He shifted his hips up and spread his legs further as he did so. He did, easing his fingers back slightly but not enough to pull out. “You're looking for a kind of...it's like a protrusion at the top. That's where you need to focus your attention.”

 

 

Knowing what he was going for, Roman hooked his fingers upwards and moved them along the upper half of his innards. He pulled out nearly all the way, then pushed back in to search for it by feel. He did eventually find a different feeling location and pushed his fingers against it. He heard and felt Peter let out a long, audible breath when he did.

 

“Are you talking about this?” Roman asked, continuing his ministrations.

 

“Uh-huh,” Peter replied, though the octave was much higher and more breathless. Knowing now he was in the right spot, he worked up a rhythm. He would pull back and push forward harder. Occasionally he wouldn't pull back much at all, but simply press against it and move his fingers in slight circular motions, which was harder than one would think.

 

 

Peter sounded and behaved a lot differently, he found, during pleasurable stimulation. His voice was generally deep, at least in terms of a normal guy's voice. But when he moaned between panting breaths it was an octave higher. He was definitely quieter than Roman but of course, this was his first time experiencing it. Quiet as he was Roman still felt the boiling pit of arousal in his abdomen, and the unfortunate need to be touched despite the fact that he was trapped under Peter and he couldn't get hard again. Every noise he made went into his ears and straight down to his groin.

 

Peter was leaned against him in such a way that his neck was bared to him, and Roman could see his pulse thudding beneath the skin. It called to him in ways that he didn't quite understand but he knew he had to get his mouth on it. He lowered his head far enough to kiss low on his neck; the place that wasn't obscured by his shirt anyway. He found this was not enough, unfortunately. He wanted to feel _more_. He used his free hand to slide up Peter's shirt, caressing his skin there and leaving light scratch marks in his wake.

 

 

Peter suddenly turned his head, used his free hand to bring behind him to grip at Roman's hair. It was awkward and he had to imagine not all to comfortable for Peter, but it got his attention enough to get him off his neck. He kissed him desperately, missing several times and breaking away to let out soft, pleasured cries that only made Roman more desperate. He shifted his hips beneath him on instinct, and he realized now that he didn't want to just do this. Though it was currently impossible he wished he could actually get his dick in him. That was, without a doubt, probably the least heterosexual thought he'd ever had. Willingly wanting to fuck a guy, wanting to fuck his male _friend_. Shit, he really wanted this.

 

 

He couldn't fuck him but he could touch him. The hand beneath his shirt drifted downwards and gripped his cock, hot and slightly slick from secreted precum. He knew what to do with a dick considering he owned one, less so what to do with someone's ass. This, he was in his element. It startled Peter and he jerked slightly, letting out a choked and surprised moan but falling back into the routine quickly. By the time Peter was actually biting at Roman's lips he pulled away, gazing downwards, open mouthed and panting from what Roman could see from his periphery. His cries raised in octave once more, closer in frequency. He could feel the muscles in him tightening and he knew he was getting closer, and also louder. Roman was at first pleased with this change until he heard the sound of a slamming car door outside. The both of them let out a startled gasp, and Roman stilled for a moment in shock.

 

“Shit...I think your fucking mom is home,” Peter said breathlessly.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” Roman asked against his ear. He was quiet but he was surprised how much arousal seemed to be in that statement.

 

“No...I don't know. Maybe. Fuck I was so close.”

 

“I locked the door,” Roman said and he resumed his actions once more. “It's fine.”

 

“She's gonna fuckin' hear me,” Peter hissed out, ending in a desperate whimpering whine.

 

“Then be quiet.”

 

 

Roman pulled out the stops as Peter had, knowing he was close. He worked his fingers harder and faster on his cock and inside of him. Roman knew Peter was really struggling, shaking breaths from his nostrils and muffled moans constrained in his throat, quieted by the teeth biting down in his lip. If he had a hand free he'd cover his mouth for him but as it was they were both busy. Peter took care of this on his own eventually, suddenly very rapidly putting his own hand up to his mouth at the peak right before his orgasm. Each breath he took was shaking and heavy, and he only knew that because he could hear it from his nose. Still with his hand over his mouth he kept his teeth in his lip to muffle it even further. He still heard him, muffled as he was, when he finally came. He realized now _just_ how tight it got in there when he got off. He struggled to keep it going as long as he could even though he was being constricted. His hand slowed, though still jerked his cock as it spilled down his hand in waves. It made it a bit more difficult when Peter continuously jerked his hips against Roman's hand, spilling it further down his hand and wrist and even onto his own thighs. Roman was almost disappointed because he knew had his mother not come home this experience would have been more explosive and a lot hotter. Shit...hotter. That was _really_ fucking arousing. He could still feel the pulsing need in his groin to get off even though he wasn't hard at all.

Roman was learning some things about himself, today.

 

 

Once he'd thoroughly milked Peter of all he had to give, he pulled his fingers out and reached for the towel to clean himself, and by proxy, Peter of the mess he'd made. He was still leaning against him trying to catch his breath. Once he regained his composure he let out one final long sigh and spoke, “You still owe me a hundred.”

 

“I know,” Roman said, urging Peter off of him and pulling on his pants. Peter did the same while Roman was going through his wallet, pulling out cash and handing it to him. He smirked at him knowingly when he slipped it into his pocket. As Roman slipped on his shirt once more, he cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“So uh...you want to do this again sometime?”

 

 

Peter laughed as he slid off the bed, adjusting his belt and coming to stand in front of him. Though Peter was far shorter than him he still stood taller, seemed a lot more confident and probably pretty fucking smug.

 

“I don't know. Thought you weren't gay.”

 

“I mean...maybe a tiny percentile gay.”

 

“Okay...yeah, sure. Same shit?”

 

“Maybe a little more.”

 

“Yeah...you want to drive me home or are you going to make me walk?”

 

“I'll drive you. Not gonna kick a girl out of my house and make her walk home.”

 

“Fuck you,” Peter snorted. “Let's get out of here, I've got shit to do at home.”

 

 

Roman unlocked the door and they headed off, down the staircase and towards the door. Peter was out of there way before Roman was who lingered to make sure his mother wasn't too close at hand. Once he was out of earshot he froze as he heard her call his name from the parlor.

 

“Roman,” she called. She sounded exhausted, not so much like she'd been doing anything but more so with life and Roman in general.

 

“Yeah?” he responded, higher than he would have liked as it got caught in his throat.

 

“If you're going to be a degenerate...do use protection.”

 

Embarrassed, he didn't give her a response and hurried outside to find Peter waiting in the passengers seat. He noticed his altered state as he slid into the drivers seat.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Well...good news and bad news. My mom doesn't want to kill you. But she knows.”

 

“Shit...” Peter mumbled.

 

“Sleep with one eye open, though. And let's do this at your house next time.”

 

“Probably should have anyway. I know Lynda wouldn't give a shit.”

 

Roman wasn't sure just how comfortable he was screwing around under the same roof as Peter's mother while she was home, but that would be an issue for later. For now, he headed out of his driveway and off towards Peter's house. He pushed out all thoughts of what had happened moments prior and focused on the road. Despite Roman's initial fear of shit getting weird, it seemed like they were still cool. They were still friends, just ones with benefits. He could live with that.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bill Skarsgard has ridiculously large balls and I've always wanted to make a joke about it


End file.
